


Paradise Circus

by grimmysquiff



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 20 year old Harry, 30 year old louis, Anal Sex, Bisexual Louis, Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Feminine Harry, Harry in Panties, Homophobic Language, M/M, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Police Officer Louis, Rimming, Sugar Baby Harry, Swearing, Top Louis, a bit of a cat and mouse game, but we still love him obviously, harry is absolutely awful, like unnecessary swearing??, lots of awful teasing and flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:05:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmysquiff/pseuds/grimmysquiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Did you kill your husband, Harry?" Louis lets out in a high breath as Harry mouths over the crotch of his pants. He stops, pressing one more kiss against the bulge, pretty painted fingernails playing against the zip.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>He looks up, his mischievous doe eyes catching Louis off guard, "Does it matter? You're still going to fuck me."</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>-</em></p><p> </p><p> Or; Louis is a near-disgraced Detective for the Special Crimes Unit in the London Metropolitan Police. His world is turned upside down after a murder investigation turns into an obsession. The obsession being the main suspect and newly widowed Harry Styles. Harry's games of deception and blackmail leave no choice for Louis to give in to the beautiful and alluring curly haired angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise Circus

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I got a lot of hype for this on my Twitter already from a few teasers. This is completely different from my other works and made need a lot of tweaking.
> 
> It is loosely based off of the TV show Luther (which I suggest you all watch as the relationship between Luther and Alice is absolutely divine) so much that it could be almost considered an AU?? The title is taken from the theme tune by Massive Attack which I suggest you all listen to as it really sets the tone I'm trying to convey here. 
> 
> No smut in this chapter :( I'm sorry but I hope the teasing will keep you guys really intrigued. I tagged a lot of eventual stuff to get you guys super excited.
> 
> Please give me feedback and I have an ending sort of set in my mind atm but I'm open to ideas. I'm just so excited to write this for you guys.
> 
> * Trigger warnings for this chapter: homophobic language (thanks Liam) and slight, slight, slight mentions of domestic abuse *

The stench of burnt coffee and Liam's shitty air fresheners is something Louis was all too used to on an early Monday call. The calls that just kept coming and kept him away from his bed for the past 5 years. The calls that brought in the mess of whatever had happened the night before. Every daily murder in London laid the same question on Louis' mind - how long was too long to be in this profession?

Louis rubbed at his temple, the early brightness too much for his tired eyes. He took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitter, burnt taste before setting it back down in the cupholder and laying his head against the cool glass of the window.

"Rough night?" Liam said with a slight chuckle.

Louis let out a groan, "No. A rough night I can handle. Two hours of sleep and your idea of a cup of coffee is my issue right now."  
"You're a coffee snob."

"Just go to a fucking cafe next time I don't care, just please for the love of humanity keep away from the fucking kettle," Louis grumbled back. He took a glance over at his partner, a small glimmer of hurt on his face and tried not to laugh. Liam was too sensitive, far too sensitive to be a copper that's for sure. Louis knew his sensitive nature was an asset. He could imagine Liam back in his uniform days; Liam the comforter; PC Liam Payne and "I'm sorry I have some bad news"; Liam, the one who newly bereaved widows would cry on. That was Liam Payne.

"I missed the briefing but I know the victim -"

"You'd have to be living under a rock not to know the victim, Lou," Liam huffed.

"People outside of London's nightclub district are unlikely to have heard of Ben Winston. He owns a few clubs to cover his shady prostitution ring, he's nothing more than a  
criminal. Some people will be glad to see the back of him," Louis snapped.

"Someone like you?" Liam said, eyebrows raised.

"I couldn't care for him but he's dead now so what does it matter. Who found him?"

"His husband," Liam answered as he turned a corner sharply, making Louis grab onto his seat.

"Husband?!" Louis spluttered.

"Yeah total fag - oops, sorry Lou," Liam said sheepishly as Louis glared out of the corner of his eye, "You heard of Harry Styles?"

"Nope, should I have?"

"Did you read any of the details?"

"You gave it to me along with this piss you call coffee and that was a disaster so no, I did not. Please continue."

"Right, he married Harry Styles just a year ago. There's speculation he was one of Winston's, uh,“toy boys” to put it nicely. He runs Winston's club in Soho, you know the one with the giant neon lips sign?"

"It's just called Lipstick, Liam - you really don't get out much, do you?" Louis muttered.

"Yeah that's the one. Anyway "runs it" is how he would put it but he mainly just drinks fruity cocktails and flirts with businessman until he becomes such a mess that Daddy Ben takes him home for the night. He's been doing that for about 6 months now but it's widely known their relationship is especially volatile. Winston is too controlling and Styles is uncontrollable. Match made in heaven."

"So you're saying he did it?" Louis said, settling back down into the seat and closing his eyes.

"It's very possible. Could be an easy enough case. They live in Kensington, obviously -"

"Obviously. Right, that's all I need for now. Wake me up when we're there."

-

 

"Un-fucking-believable," Louis muttered, stepping out of the car as he gazed upon the house in front of them. He'd never seen anything like that. An off-white mansion with turrets - yes, turrets like some extraordinary castle - stood in front of him. The short staircase to the house itself was paved with glittery white marble that reflected brightly in the sunlight. Pink rose bushes lined from the house to the driveway they had just came up, so many that the smell made Louis' eyes water. The only thing that didn't match the majesty of it all were the two police cars and ambulance parked outside. The carnage ruined the magic of the palace that lay before Louis.

"Who lives here, Cinderella?" Louis chuckled.

"Close. Harry Styles," Liam retorted, stepping out of the car and putting on his long grey coat.

"Forensics still here?"

"Yeah. He was only found about 2 hours ago. Styles came back from a shopping trip and found the deceased in the kitchen. Shot twice in the back. His dog was also found dead in the lobby."

"Jesus Christ. Do we really believe the shopping trip story?" Louis said, walking up the steps two at a time.

"Unfortunately. He has an alibi since he wasn't alone. He was with Nicholas Grimshaw so -"

Louis stopped, "You're fucking kidding me? Nick fucking Grimshaw? You can throw that pervert fuck's statement right out. He's a lying junkie pimp - what does he have to do with Styles?"

"They're good friends, apparently. Styles stays with him when things get bad with Winston."

"Probably fills up with coke and fucks him like he does with all of his other twinks," Louis snarled, stopping in front of the door and retrieving his ID from inside his coat pocket.

"What do you have against him?" Liam asked gently.

"It's a long story and now isn't the time," Louis replied, his finger pressing hard into the doorbell. A few moments later the large door opened to reveal a timid maid, her eyes widening in fright as both Liam and Louis flashed their police IDs at her.

"Oh," she squeaked.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm DCI Louis Tomlinson from the Special Crimes Unit and this is my partner DS Liam Payne. I know what happened must be very, very difficult for you," Louis used his soft voice and he knew Liam was trying his best not to laugh. He only used it for pretty girls such as this. Or boys. "I need to speak to Mr Harry Styles. I take it he's still here?"

"Oh, yes. He's in his bedroom, he's not come out since - since - since -" She started to cry softly, gripping onto the door with one hand and placing the other over her mouth.

"Hey, it's alright. What's your name, darling?" Louis stepped forward to put an arm around her.

"Jade. My name's Jade. Oh god it was awful. I've never heard Mr Styles scream like that."

"You're the maid here then, Jade?" Liam asked gently.

"Yes, I've been working for Mr Winston," she let out a sob again, her soft chocolate locks shaking, "for about 2 years now. He's really rather lovely, I'm not sure why someone would do this to him."

"Why didn't you find him? If Mr Styles was out surely you heard the gunshots?" Louis pressed, an eyebrow cocked.

"I sleep down in the guest house. Mr Styles had given me the early morning off so I was still asleep. It's quite far down in the garden from the field so I didn't hear anything. I was out in the garden getting some tomatoes for brunch when Mr Styles came home and - and -"

"It's alright now, don't get upset," Liam calmed her, "Let's go inside, yeah?"

She nodded through her tears and let them in, guiding them into the lobby. It was even more extravagant than the outside. A large pink plush carpet lay in the expanse of the hall, doors leading to various rooms throughout the house. The huge, shimmering staircase lay in front of them, rose gold bannisters at both sides leading upstairs. Everything seemed to be either white or pink or gold. The house oozed of purity and royalty.

"I've already spoken to a police officer," she said nervously, eyeing the stairs.

"We're not normal police officers. Can you please get Mr Styles? Now?" Louis said shortly and she nodded, hurrying up the staircase frantically.

"She's lying," Louis whispered once she was out of earshot.

"Why do you say that?" Liam asked.

"You're telling me she didn't see or hear any of the carnage that went on this morning? She conveniently had the morning off so she wouldn't be in the house? C'mon Liam ..."

"I thought she was rather nice."

"You always do."

"Detectives?"

Louis looked up and let out a small gasp. The man gliding down the staircase could only be something Louis had ever seen in a dream. His large green doe eyes gazed over them as his pale pink painted fingernails clung to the banister. His plush red lips pursed in question as he drew closer to him, dark curls draped around his delicate features and Louis felt the urge to stroke them. He was wearing a long, pink, silk robe, tied around his middle tightly and Louis could swear he could see the shape of plump love handles underneath. He was tall and his beauty brought an aura into the room. He was like an angel.

"Mr Styles?" Liam brought Louis out of his dream but the man was real. This was Harry Styles.

"I'm not talking to any more police officers, I'm tired and I've just lost my husband," his voice was deep but tainted with the slightest hint of sweetness. It was like raw honey and Louis wanted a taste.

"Please, Mr Styles. We're from the Special Crimes Unit we just want to speak to you about what happened. I know you're going through a terrible time but we just want a quick chat. How about the lovely Jade here makes us some tea and we can go sit down?" Louis asked softly. Harry finally reached the bottom step and looked at Louis suspiciously, his eyes trailing up and down his body. He huffed dramatically but nodded after, crossing his arms over himself.

"Use the other kitchen, Jade. I don't want anyone going into that terrible place ever again," Harry let out on a sob, moving past Louis and Liam.

"That terrible place is now a crime scene, Mr Styles," Louis quipped, "No one should be going in there."

Harry turned to face him and his eyes flared before his nose twitched and he smiled wide at Louis, "Of course, Detective -?"

"Tomlinson."

"Tomlinson, beautiful and you?"

"Payne."

"Pleasure. Please come this way to my study."

Harry led them down the long hall into a wide room. The curtains remained drawn over what Louis could tell were large windows, probably overlooking the garden. Two sofas sat facing each other in the middle with a desk and a plush chair over by the window. Harry threw himself onto the sofa, laying down as if he was a Greek Goddess on a chaise lounge, waiting to be fed grapes by a servant. It was a gorgeous image. His robe had rode up slightly and Louis found it difficult to avert his gaze from his hairless, milky thighs.

"Sit," Harry commanded, pointing to the other sofa, "I don't know what you could possibly ask that I haven't answered already but please humour me."

"Where were you this morning, Mr Styles?" Liam asked.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Shopping, I got my nails done. Look! Aren't they pretty?" Harry stretched his hands out in front of them, wiggling his fingers slightly to show off his polished nails. Louis chuckled and Harry scowled, laying his hands back on his lap.

"You were with Nick Grimshaw, correct?" Liam pressed.

"Yes and he's already been interviewed too - can you ask me something different please because I'm rather bored," Harry puffed, sorting his fringe lazily.

"Alright, Harry, do you have any firearms in the house?" Louis finally spoke up and Harry stopped, his expression finally softening as his eyes shifted from Liam to Louis. His tongue poked out from his mouth and he dragged it slowly over his bottom lip, never taking his eyes off of Louis.

"No. I don't like guns, they're dirty and heavy and I like pretty, soft things."

"So you wouldn't shoot your own husband then?" Louis said, eyebrows raised.

"What on earth are you implying?"

"Louis, what are you doing?" Liam whispered angrily, elbowing him.

"I find it convenient that you get a bloody manicure at the same time your husband is shot dead," Louis said, sitting back in his chair while Liam sat with his mouth agape. Harry stared at him, his lip quivered slightly before he broke down in tears. He put his face in his perfectly polished hands and wept loudly. Liam sent Louis a furious look, Louis just smiled back. He'd make him crack soon enough.

"My husband is dead! Can't you see I'm grieving?" Harry sobbed.

"Nope," Louis muttered.

"Louis, stop."

"You and your husband didn't exactly have the same dreamy illusion of love and comfort that your house did, did it?" Louis asked as Harry still cried.

"We would fight sometimes, yes! But any couple fights! That's normal!"

"Sure, but normal is not a word most people would use to describe you two, Harold."

"My name is Harry! And I loved my husband, I really did. You don't realise the people in this city - the people who hated him and hated the empire he built for himself. He has so much many people would want to take away from him. Why aren't you talking to them? Why are you wasting your time talking to me?" Harry rambled on, dramatically leaning over to the side table to fetch a tissue, dabbing at each eye.

"We are, Mr Styles, I promise we are following leads for anyone who had a reason to harm your husband," Liam reassured.

"Thank you. You're kind - unlike him," Harry snarled, glaring at Louis.

"I apologise, Detective Tomlinson has an, uh, unusual way of dealing with witnesses," Liam said gently, offering a soft smile as Harry batted his eyelids at him. Louis scoffed to himself. He could see right through the sad eyes and that dimpled cheek but Liam was too much of a softie to see the truth underneath the veil.

"Harry," Louis started and Harry finally looked up at him again, he was frowning and tears still rolled down his cheek but his eyes - his eyes glistened with something else. Not sadness, not the hurt of loss but something else. Something taunting, "I've been a police officer for a very long time to know that this was a singular crime. No sign of robbery, forced entry, nothing to suggest that anyone else had any reason to enter your home and kill your husband."

"They also killed my dog!" Harry shrieked.

"You care about your dog more than your husband, Harry?"

"Louis," Liam hissed, glaring at him as Harry continued to sob.

"Crimes like this don't go without motive, Harry. So why won't you enlighten me?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before opening them again, looking straight at Louis, almost ferociously, "If you want to interview me like a suspect, Detective Tomlinson, then detain me. Otherwise I have nothing else to say to you."

"That won't be necessary, Mr Styles. I think we're done for today," Liam stood up and sent Louis another dark look, "We'll stay in touch if we need any more information for you. I'm sure the other officers left you a number to call if you need to? Do you have someone you can be with today?"

"Nick is making me princess pancakes for dinner," Harry giggled, fluttering his eyelashes.

"Errr, alright. We'll be off then. Like I said, don't be afraid to call us," Liam finished as Louis finally got up and made for the door. As Liam left, Louis looked back and Harry stared right back at him. His eyes flashed devilishly but it was his smile. His haunting, great, Cheshire Cat smile that Louis could feel taunting and touching upon every nerve in his body. He left and shut the door with a slam.

-

"He fucking did it! You can't tell me you don't see right through his sad little act? He's guilty as sin, Li!" Louis shouted, exasperated.

"There's no proof. He _was_ spotted out shopping with Grimshaw there's no getting past his alibi. Plus, he's right - Ben Winston had a lot of enemies in the club scene. We have to look at other suspects," Liam reasoned.

"Fuck!" Louis shouted, slamming his hands on the car hood, breathing heavily.

He felt Liam move behind him and tensed up, "Why are you so wound up? Talk to me, mate."

Louis sighed and put his hands over his face, clouded images of a curly-haired nymph dancing in front of his eyes and he resisted the urge to scream. He lifted his hands and placed them back on the hood of the car, taking a deep breath, "I'll get him. I'll prove it to you."

"Just drop it, he's a fairy boy," Liam sighed.

"Shut the fuck up, Liam," Liam mumbled a "Sorry" as Louis continued to speak, "Homophobic slur or not, he's fucking rich now."

"He wasn't already rich?"

"Listen, he took over Ben Winston's entire estate. He owns half of the clubs in Soho now. Why am the only one who sees what really happened here? Why won't you pursue this with me, Payno?"

Liam shook his head and opened the door to get into the car. "Because you're not gonna win." Liam stepped into the car and slammed the door as Louis cursed under his breath. If Liam wasn't going to help him then he'd have to do this on his own.

-

Louis breathed into his hands, rubbing them together in an attempt to warm himself. He could count on the city of London to be absolutely freezing on the one night he bothered to venture out. The nights he did have the luxury of not being at the job, he usually spent in his flat watching reality TV and eating cheap takeaway curry. This was much different. The streets were lit in neon signs so blinding that Louis had to squint to see properly. The smell of spilt booze and cheap cigarettes stinged his nostrils as he walked from person past person. This was Soho and he was here for a reason.

He turned a corner and he knew he'd found the right club. Far too large and over-decorated; with large Hollywood-like light bulbs around the entrance and the famous red lipped sign - this was it. Lipstick. Harry Styles' nightclub. He pushed his way to the front, much to the disgust of the waiting clubbers, ID in his hand and ready for any bullshit from the doorman. The doorman gave him a sullen look but opened the door.

It was like any other overpriced club in Soho but with the added touch of Harry Styles. Everything was a mess of pink and red in the darkened space. The bar was bright pink, a petite barmaid in red sequin hot pants was serving drinks to several customers that surrounded the large counter. The place was filled with red lip shaped sofas and small round pink tables. It was an eyesore if anything.

"Hey hun, can I get you anything?" another petite and curvy girl appeared at Louis' side, smiling widely with blush red lips.

Louis flashed his ID again, "Harry Styles, please."

She gulped nervously before she nodded, extending an arm to guide him further into the room, "This way, Detective". She took him further into club, gilding easily past each person and annoyingly huge sofas that lay in the way. Further in the back was a small doorway, covered by a beaded curtain - even the beads were shaped like lips. The sign above the door stated "VIP". He could see Harry sitting at the booth as soon as he entered. Harry saw him, too. Dressed in a pearl blush silk shirt that hung over his black jeans delicately, he smiled around the rim of a cocktail he was sipping.

"I knew you'd come here. Would you like a drink? Millie, take his order! Oh, and his coat," Harry said, clicking his fingers at the young woman who had brought Louis in.

Louis screwed his face up, "My coat? I don't think so."

"You're trained and authorised to carry a firearm, Detective. I'm just looking out for my own safety," Harry said with a giggle and another sip of his drink.

Louis reluctantly began to take off his coat, handing it to the woman at his side, "Beer is fine thank you, Millie."

"Sit!" Harry said excitedly, pointing at the seat opposite from him in the booth. Louis sat down cautiously, never taking his eyes off of Harry's gleaming ones.

"Do you like my club?" he asked sweetly.

"Well, I thought someone of your ... tastes would be aware that red and pink clash terribly."

Harry's nostrils flared in anger and he slammed his drink back on the table, "Not if you use the right shades. I think it looks rather good. Did you know the sign outside was modeled on my own features? Rather pretty, don't you think?"

Harry giggled and pursed his lips and Louis shifted nervously in his seat. He did have rather lovely lips, Louis had thought of them since he'd left him; his sinful mind constantly drifting from the thought of the lies that came out of them to the thought of what could go between them.

"How old are you, Detective?" Harry asked, a finger circling the rim of his glass with a dainty finger. Louis was hypnotised.

"Why?"

"I'm curious. I like older men and your stubble gives it away."

Louis self-consciously ran a hand under his chin, feeling the coarse scruff that was growing there, "I'm thirty. How about you, Harry?"

"I'm 20."

"How old was Ben?"

"Mmmm, thirty-four. Perfect."

Louis laughed nervously and they stayed quiet for a few moments.

"So, I take it you didn't just come for a chat then, Detective Tomlinson?"

"As lovely as our last chat was - no, no I didn't," Louis chuckled. Millie came back in and placed a pint of beer in front of Louis along with another pink glass of whatever strange mixture Harry was drinking.

"You think I killed my husband," Harry smiled.

Louis laughed again, "I know you killed your husband, Harry."

"Hmmm, interesting. You can see for yourself how delicate and pretty and angelic I am, so how could I ever commit such a terrible act?"

"Well, you're right there, but unfortunately people as tediously overly sweet as you can put up such a facade to hide it."

Harry pursed his lips again, "So, you admit I'm sweet."

"Tediously."

"Whatever you may claim to 'know'" Harry held his hands in quotations, "You don't have any evidence and you don't have any reason to hold me as a suspect."

Louis put down his glass after taking a longer sip and tapped his index finger to the side of his temple, "I have this. I may not look like much to you Harry but up here I have enough tools to help me realise that you committed this crime."

"My motives?"

"The abuse for one."

Harry leaned across the table his soft voice now becoming an angry hiss, "He hit me once and that was a mistake. He never ever did it again."

"The money."

"Oh please, Ben may have liked to appear to be my sugar daddy but I have more than enough in my bank account to out buy anyone in this area."

"And -"

Harry held up a finger and stopped him, "If this is the part where you tragically imply that I hated my husband so much that I'd plot to murder him then I'd rather you stop. This is boring me now."

Louis sneered, lifting his glass back up and taking another large gulp, he didn't look Harry in the eye. He knew someone as childish and needy as this couldn't take too long without being ignored. He even thought about taking a glance at his watch until Harry would crack.

"Did I hate my husband? Oh, absolutely. But did I murder him?" Harry stopped, giving a soft giggle and looked up from his drink, gazing into Louis' eyes, "I don't think so."

"Well, Harry, I do think so. I think you're nothing more than a glorified actor. You may have everyone else - the rest of my unit, your friends, your bloody neighbours - believing your sad little wife act but you're never gonna fool me. You're going to go to prison for a long time."

Harry's face filled with darkness, his eyes glazed over with anger and Louis knew he'd finally cracked him, "You can't and you won't. Even if you could prove it, I have far too much money for you to touch me."

"You'd be surprised at the people I've taken down. I'm not your normal police officer, Harry. The criminals I've arrested have done stuff that would give you nightmares. You're nothing compared to them and let me tell you, they're going to love you in prison," Louis smirked, picking up his beer and downing the rest.

"Of course they would, look at me," Harry waved his hands exaggeratedly over his body, his silk shirt bunching around his middle, showing off his soft tummy, "Why are you even here? This is harassment."

"I'm a police officer, Harold."

"My name's Harry," Harry pouted pathetically, "They've already interviewed me. You interviewed me yourself yesterday and yet here you are - dare I say, Detective, that you're developing a bit of an obsession?"

"As lovely as you are, Harry -"

Harry giggled, "Thank you."

"- The only interest I have in you is making sure you're in a prison cell for the rest of your youthful years. Those pretty curls will be grey by the time you get out."

"How dare you! My beauty defies age."

Louis rolled his eyes dramatically as Harry started to pet his own hair, rolling a curl slowly around his index finger, "I'm not playing games anymore, we're done here." Louis got up from his seat, taking a five pound note from his wallet and chucking it down on his table.

"Don't go just yet, Detective. You see, I rather like games."

"I'm sure you do but unfortunately, love, I don't," Louis replied, turning to leave.

"Let's play one right now! How about a word game? I'll start - do you know the meaning of the word "police brutality"?"

Louis froze. Harry couldn't possibly know...

"You see, DCI Louis William Tomlinson, you may have your police databases and records and whatever else you working class degenerates use to get at people like me but," Harry paused again, leaning forward and taking the cherry from his drink and popping it gently in between his plush lips. He sucked for a moment before continuing, "People like me have their own sources."

"Are you threatening me?" Louis slammed his hands down on the table and Harry didn't even flinch, simply cocking his head up and smiling at Louis.

"I thought we were playing a game?" he said sweetly.

"I told you I didn't like games."

"Aren't you interested to see who will win? The depressed detective, whose height made people not take him seriously enough so he rather felt the need to use his fists to prove it or the sweet, little, innocent widow who doesn't like when rough police officers turn up unexpectedly on his property?"

"I'm leaving," Louis snarled, finally turning and leaving the booth. He reached the bottom of the steps when he heard Harry speak again.

"You won't let this drop. I know you won't. I'm sure I'll see you very, very soon Detective. I almost look forward to it," Harry giggled.

Louis felt a small shudder run down his spine, he couldn't listen to this twisted, charming nymph any longer. He walked out of the door, hitting the beads away from himself and snatched his coat from Millie's waiting arms. He dodged past various clubbers before finally relaxing as the cool air hit his face when he was safely outside. Then, he walked down the length of the road til his head cleared slightly, the perfumed scent of the inside of Harry's lounge had messed with him too much. As he got to the end of the road, he felt a familiar vibration in his pocket. Taking his phone out, he gazed in horror at the message on his screen.

_Shouldn't give your drab coat to pretty little strangers._  
Don't come back to my club, I will come to you.  
We're going to have lots of fun. I know it.  
H  
xoxo 


End file.
